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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446752">Goodbye, Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milky_Boy_Blue/pseuds/Milky_Boy_Blue'>Milky_Boy_Blue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Second Summer [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Family, Forgiveness, Gen, Guilt, Loss, Wakes &amp; Funerals</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:14:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446752</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milky_Boy_Blue/pseuds/Milky_Boy_Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every moment with those you love is a happy one, not every story is an adventure.  When tragedy strikes, the Pines family must come together to face it, like they always have.  But now they must do so without the bravest man they ever knew.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dipper Pines &amp; Ford Pines &amp; Mabel Pines &amp; Stan Pines, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez &amp; Wendy Corduroy &amp; Stan Pines, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez/Melody, Mabel Pines &amp; Stan Pines</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Second Summer [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1243745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Author’s note: My very first piece of fanfiction, Back Before Summer Starts, involved Wendy encountering an older Dipper and Mabel from a different world, a universe where Dipper’s the older twin, the Northwests never lost their fortune, and a few other differences from the Gravity Falls we all know.  This story is set in their reality, years before that encounter.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> While it’s not necessary, I’d definitely recommend reading Back Before Summer Starts before reading this story, even if it’s only to refresh your memory.  It’s not my best but I’m still very proud of the ending. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <em> PREQUEL TO SECOND SUMMER </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The old witch gazed at his hand like a cartographer studying a map, taking in every detail with an experienced eye that took in more information than most could for a deeper meaning, her face so close to the palm that her long, crooked nose almost touched the skin.</p><p>“Yes,” she murmured after a few minutes.  “Yes, I see now.  There’s no denying it.”  She looked the hand’s owner in the eye with a piercing gaze.  “I’m afraid you’re going to die.”</p><p>Stanley Pines glared at her, not at all pleased with that answer.  “What are you, my doctor?  Geez, lady, I asked about the Big Game next week, not my health!  You gonna tell me who’ll win or am I going to have to guess?”</p><p>The Hand Witch scowled.  “I  thought you’d want to hear the more important bit first.”</p><p>“Lady, I’ll decide what’s important,” Stan growled.  “I could be making some serious moolah if I bet on the right team here, especially if you got the details on the final score and who delivers it!  Or is that too tricky for you?”</p><p>“I read palms, how am I supposed to get sports news from that?” she snapped.  “Unless you’re part of the team, I can’t exactly check that, can I?  Besides, impending death would be enough for most people,” she muttered.</p><p>Stan rolled his eyes.  “Oh, wow, what a shock, old people die.  Alright, alright.  If you can’t give me the details of the game, can you at least give me a little more info on when I do croak?”</p><p>“Doesn’t quite work like that,” she said, taking his hand again.  “However, I can tell you that it will be...soon.”</p><p>“Soon,” he repeated.  </p><p>“Yes.  Very soon.”</p><p>“Is it going to be in five minutes when it hits me that I paid actual money for this and have a heart attack from the outrage and shame?”</p><p>“Not that soon.”</p><p>“Whoopee,” Stan grunted.  “Okay then, what about the how?  What finally does me in?  Aneurysm?  Troll?  Disgruntled former-business partner?”</p><p>“Can’t really make out anything that specific- wait.”  The Hand Witch frowned, peering at his palm.  “I see something...important.  Very important.  According to this...you will die…”</p><p>“Of old age waiting for you to answer?” Stan guessed.</p><p>She threw him a look before loosening her talon-like grip and letting him take his hand back.  “No.  I can see...that you’ll die a very happy man.”</p><p>There was a heavy silence, the noises of activity and amusement muffled more than they should have been by the fabric of the tent.</p><p>“No refunds,” the Hand Witch said before he’d even had a chance to open his mouth.</p><p>Stan’s eyes bulged in fury.  But after experiencing five hand-related curses from the old witch, even he’d finally learned not to try and scam his way out of paying her for anything.  He did, however, slam the money down with obvious displeasure, muttering insults and magic-free curses under his breath as he stormed out, past the small que of people waiting to have their palms read.</p><p>The Hand Witch’s tent was just one of many attractions at Mama Misfortune’s Travelling Carnival and Freak Show.  There were stands of cheap food, simple carnival games, and attractions of such poor quality that they made even the early days of the Mystery Shack look decent in comparison.  Which was why they had come: Stan suggested it might be a good idea to check out the place to see if they might want to spend a day or two at the Shack and attract twice as many customers for a bit.</p><p>Well, that was the official reason.  The real reason was that Angelina and Louise seemed a bit stressed-out lately and he thought it would be a good idea to take them out for a bit.  Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, lest they think he cared.</p><p>He put his hand over his eyes and looked at the sky.  The bright, sunny day was fading into night and it looked like some of the stalls and attractions were starting to close, with many people making their way to the car park.</p><p>He made a detour to one of the shooting galleries, taking longer than expected before heading there himself, his ‘winnings’ in a bag dangling from one hand.  He saw the girls were standing outside their dad’s jeep, talking and probably waiting on him so he sped up a little, </p><p>using his eight ball cane to keep himself steady.  For most of the time he’d had it, it had been more for decoration and to assist with the showmanship.  Now he couldn’t make it to the front gate without its help.</p><p>Not that he minded, really.  Just another part of growing old.  Besides, as long as he didn’t try too many steps, he could still point and twirl it, letting him keep some of that old roguish charm.  </p><p>“Alright, figure I’ve got enough info to keep your dad happy,” he said as he reached them.  “You girls all set?”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Angelina Ramirez said, her younger sister, Louise, nodding beside her.  “Pretty fun to check out other places once in a while.  You get any new ideas from the place.”</p><p>“One or two,” Stan shrugged.  “Not much there to be honest.”</p><p>“Saw you in the queue for the fortune-teller,” Louise said.  “Was going to see her myself but didn’t get around to it.”  </p><p>“Would’ve wasted your money,” Stan grunted.  “My Ma was a phony-psychic, only difference was Ma probably looks better, even in her grave.”</p><p>“Grandpa Stan, that’s mean!”  Louise said, though both girls were laughing.</p><p>It was a title Stan had tried to ignore when it had first been bestowed on him by the oldest of Soos and Melody’s children, figuring it would stop once the truth was explained and they grew up a little.  Instead, it had been passed down and shared amongst them and none of them showed any interest in stopping.  Which Stan was perfectly happy with, even if he’d never admit it.</p><p>“So what’s in the bag?” Louise asked.</p><p>“Just some things,” he answered evasively, pulling out a pair of stuffed toys.  “Won them at a couple of games when I tried them out.”  In actual fact, he’d barely hit any targets, his cataracts were that bad these days.  But the man at the gallery had been more than happy to hand over the prizes if you slipped him enough cash.  “Figured you girls can look at them, test them out and decide if they’re worth getting some for the Shack.”</p><p>He passed Louise a brightly coloured creature with huge eyes, a cross between a rodent and...some other rodent.  Whatever.  He had no idea what it was and he thought the thing looked too weird to be cute, but it had those big anime eyes and the girl was even more nuts about that stuff than her dad was.  Besides, he was sure he’d seen her wear a t-shirt with the little monster on it, or at least something similar.</p><p>“Uh-huh,” said Angelina, taking her own, much more standard looking toy from Stan as Louise let out a delighted squeal.  “And I suppose you also have enough for Bethany and Uncle Dipper’s girls too?”</p><p>“Pure coincidence,” Stan said, scratching his chin and looking away as the sisters smiled.  “We heading out or what?”</p><p>The drive back to the Shack was uneventful, Angelina driving and Louise beside her so Stan could stretch out a little more in the back.  The girls talked away about the different attractions and features of the carnival.  Louise had tried out some of the small rides and met a few of her friends who were also there, but Angelina had the most detail about the prices, number of stalls, the layout, etcetera.  Then again, she had always been the most business-savvy one and Stan was a little impressed to see how much she’d picked up after one afternoon.  Most importantly, both of them seemed more relaxed than they had over the past couple of days.  </p><p>Probably due to school.  This was Angelina’s last year and she wasn’t sure if she should go to college and study something about business, or stick around for another year and try to get more first-hand experience managing the Shack.  Louise on the other hand was heading into her last year and Melody had told him she still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life.</p><p><em> Don’t need to worry about that, kid </em> , Stan thought to himself as they approached their old Tourist Trap, now in much better condition than when Stan had run it. <em>  All the time in the world to sort out that crap when you’ve got parents like yours to support you. </em></p><p>“Hey, guys!” Bethany called out from the shop window, still wearing her green question mark t-shirt, despite the shop not being open today.  “Looks like you just made it in time to avoid the rain.  So, how was it?  Did you manage to find Madam Misfortune?”</p><p>“Doubt there is one, kiddo,” Stan grunted, getting out of the car with some effort as Bethany came rushing out to meet them.  “Told Ford where we were going and he said this carnival has been around since we were in our thirties.  Probably not a real person, or if there is then the title’s probably passed on to whoever’s in charge of the place at the time, keep the spirit alive and </p><p>“Like how you used to be Mister Mystery and now it’s Dad!” Bethany said, brightly.  Just short of fifteen, she was the youngest of the Ramirez sisters and while she was the spitting image of her mother on the outside, she was exactly like her father on the inside, thus making her Stan’s favourite, though he tried not to show it.  “That’s still cool.  Did you have fun?” </p><p>“Yeah!” Louise cried, squeezing her toy tightly.  “Look what Grandpa Stan bought us!  There’s one for you too!”</p><p>“I did not buy it!” Stan snapped, “I won them!  It’s a business thing, nothing more!””</p><p>“I love it anyway,” Bethany said, holding her leopard tight.  “Thank you, Grandpa Stan.”</p><p>Stan’s lips tightened at their annoyingly grateful smiles.  <em> I used to be feared.  Kids would take a look at my face and run screaming!  Now look at what I’ve become. </em></p><p>He let out a resigned sigh and off-handedly held out the bag containing a pair of stuffed sheep.  “Here.  Hand these to Dipper next time he’s around.  For his girls.  But it’s purely so they can act as sample-testers!  I’m expecting you to call him for updates on quality and appeal to that age-group!”</p><p>“Sure, Stan, whatever you say,” Angelina said, smirking as she took them inside.</p><p>Stan rolled his eyes and looked around.  “Where’s my car?  Mabel said it’d be here by now.”</p><p>“It’s round the back,” Bethany told him, turning the stuffed leopard in her hands to look at it from every direction.  “Dropped it off not long after you left.”</p><p>Stan looked at his watch.  “Great.  Me and the boys are having a card game, got time to get there first, order a few drinks and make ‘em less careful with their money.  See you girls later.”</p><p>“Bye, Grandpa Stan!” Louise and Bethany said, Angelina following shortly after from inside.</p><p>“What are you looking for?” Louise asked as Bethany continued to look at her toy from every angle.  </p><p>“Checking to see if there’s a note attached with some magic incantation that’ll bring it to life.”</p><p> Louise scoffed.  “C’mon, Beth, what are the chances of that happening?  Again.  Nah, most you’ll get from that cheap carnival is a toy that makes a sound if you squeeze its belly.”</p><p>“Suppose you’re right,” Bethany shrugged, pressing her thumbs deep into its middle.</p><p>A scream rang out, loud enough that the birds in the trees took to the skies.</p><p>“Aw, no, I think I killed it,” Bethany gasped, staring at the leopard in horror as Louise looked around in alarm.</p><p>“What the heck was that?” Angelina demanded, sticking her head out the shop window.</p><p>“Gonna kill her,” Stan growled, marching towards the front door faster than he had in years.  “This is the last straw, family be damned, gonna sick a lawyer on her if I have to-”</p><p>Angelina and Louise stared after their adopted grandfather before turning to Bethany, who looked puzzled.  “Wonder if that’s about the car?”</p><p>Angelina and Louise shared a look before Angelina came outside, all three making their way round the back to see what all the fuss was about.</p><p>“Woah!” Louise cried, staring at the vehicle.  </p><p>“Aunt Mabel really outdid herself this time,” Bethany agreed, admiring it.</p><p>“Must be one of her marketing stunts” Angelina said, stroking her chin thoughtfully.  “Definitely more eye-grabbing than a billboard.”</p><p>“How many people do you think saw this?” Louise asked as they went in for a closer look.  </p><p>“Mabel said she drove it through the city,” Bethaney told them.  “Had an exhibition or something.  Then all the way back here.”</p><p>“Oh, man,” Louise laughed.  “Stan’s going to freak when she tells him.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Come on, number six!” Mabel yelled, shaking the dice in her hands.  “Or five.  Or nine.  Whatever gets me sheep, I ain’t picky.”  She blew on them for that little extra luck and let them go just as the phone rang.  “Aw, nuts,” she cursed softly as they came up short of any of her requested numbers, her husband handing her a resource card she didn’t want.</p><p>“Your turn,” he added as she took it.</p><p>“Shouldn’t you get the phone, cheer me up from my losing streak?” she asked, frowning at her hand.  </p><p>Tommy shrugged. “That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.  Thankfully, I’m not a gentleman so I don’t qualify.  It’s your fault really, you should have better taste in men.”</p><p>“I’ll try and do better next time,” she said with a smile, getting up and going to the phone.</p><p>“Yello, this Mabel, how can-”</p><p>“You little monster!”  A voice roared down the line, so loud she tore it away from her ear.  “What the hell have you done to my car, you damn vandal!?”</p><p>Mabel blinked, hesitantly returning the phone to her ear.  “Stan?  Is that you?”</p><p>“Of course it’s me!” he yelled back, though she was prepared for it this time.  “Who else’s car have you wrecked!  Give me their names and I’ll form a mob, pitchforks and all!”</p><p>Mabel frowned.  “Okay, I know I might have gone a little overboard-”</p><p>“A little overboard?” Stan yelled, pacing up and down Soos’ office, leaning heavily on his cane.  “A little?”  He stormed over to the window, glaring at his beloved Stanmobile.  “You put lipstick on the damn thing!  And eyelashes!  All you need’s the little umbrella and it’d be fit for Penelope Pittstop!”</p><p>“I don’t know who that is.  Is that an old person reference?”<br/>“You even made it smell girly!  What happened to my manly musk?  Thing stinks of perfume!”</p><p>“That wasn’t musk, Stan, that was sweat.  Smelly, smelly, sweat.  You should know that, we’ve been telling you for two decades.”</p><p>“Took me years to get it to smell like that”  Stan continued, not really listening.  “And why in God’s name did you have to put whiskers on it?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll admit the whiskers might have been too much,” Mabel relented.  “Honestly, I wasn’t going to add them but Pacifica knew one of hosts for the exhibition and apparently she’s really into that sort of-”</p><p>“Wait, exhibition?  What exhibition?  Where?  How many people were there?”  </p><p>“The one in Portland. And there weren’t that many?  A couple of hundred, maybe about fifty photographers-”</p><p>“Photographers?  They took pictures of my car looking like something from a Hanna-Barbera cartoon?”</p><p>“Oh, I actually get that reference!  They’re the ones responsible for Scooby Doo, right?  Wait, is that where the Penelope lady’s from?  Sound familiar, now I think about it-”</p><p>“Never mind who she is!  You should be explaining to me why you decided to ruin my car after I let you use it for a day!”</p><p>“I told you!  It had the perfect body but we still needed some alterations-”</p><p>“I thought you meant paint a flower on it, not give it a freaking face!”</p><p>“If you didn’t want me to do it, you should have told me that when I showed you the pictures!”</p><p>“You never showed me any damn pictures!”</p><p>“Oh, you lying liar!  I sent the text with the designs myself!”</p><p>“You know I don’t know how to work that thing, how was I supposed to check?”</p><p>“Oh, so it’s my problem you’re too insecure to ask anyone how to use your phone?”</p><p>“Don’t try and blame this on me, you little menace!  You should have gotten my consent instead of going ahead anyway!”</p><p>“It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission!”</p><p>“Who the hell taught you that?”</p><p>“You did, you idiot!”</p><p>“I’m a conman with a criminal record!  You should know better than to listen to me!”</p><p>“Argh!  You’re impossible!”</p><p>“And you’re a nuisance!  I was going to see the guys tonight, how the hell am I meant to go anywhere with my boy looking like that!  They’ll laugh at him and, worse, me!”</p><p>“Then buy a cab, you cheapskate!  And everyone knows cars are girls, so they should see how pretty she is!”</p><p>“How the hell can a car called the Stanmobile be a girl?  That makes no sense!  And even if it were a she, she’d definitely never be the kind of lady I’d like to be seen with!”</p><p>“Are you insulting my art?” Mabel growled, what little patience she had left evaporating.  </p><p>“Art?”  Stan laughed mockingly.  “Is that what you call it?  I’ve seen your nieces do better with crayons!”</p><p>“I don’t know how to argue that without making it sound like I’m insulting my nieces!  Just for that, you’re uninvited to next weekend!  We’ll see how high and mighty you are when you find out we had steak without you!”</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry about that!  I’ll get my own, sharpen it myself to go right through your heart!”</p><p>“Bite me!” </p><p>“Before or after I see you in hell?”</p><p>Mabel let out a furious yell, one that Stan matched, both screaming down the phone at the other until Mabel slammed the phone down, seething.  Then she paused for a moment before hitting redial.</p><p>“WHAT?” Stan immediately barked.</p><p>“Hanging up on you once wasn’t enough!” Mabel snarled.  “And me and my hubby are going to spend all night trying to make a baby, so try and get that image out of your head!  You stupid, miserable old man!”</p><p>She slammed the phone down again, storming into the living room and throwing herself down on the cushion, muttering insults all the while.  They only stopped when she looked at the game on the table and suddenly remembered she had company.  “Kind of regretting that second call,” she admitted.</p><p>“You’re not the only one,” her mother sighed as her father pressed his fingers against his eyes, and her husband sheepishly handed her the dice.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Think it's over?” Bethany asked.</p><p>“Shouting stopped so I guess so,” Angelina shrugged.</p><p>“Grandpa Stan seemed pretty angry this time,” Louise noted.</p><p>“Yeah, but he’ll be fine.  You know how he is.”</p><p>The sisters made noises of consent, not thinking much more of it as they continued to check the inventory for tomorrow.  </p><p>They all stopped when they heard a strange sound coming from outside, almost like a whisper.  At first, they assumed it was the weather, which had been steadily worsening after their arrival.  Then they noticed the strong sense of sulfur, and as they listened closer, the whisper became clearer and they could make out what sounded like a strange dialect, from a voice they knew well.</p><p>One of the windows rattled and shook as a cloud of purple smoke appeared outside, pushing at it hard until Bethany leaned over and opened it, letting the smoke in.  It floated around the roam, as if searching, before hovering over the counter, gathering into a ball as the sisters waited.</p><p>The smoke slowly cleared as a figure appeared from inside, coughing. When enough of it had faded, they could see a small gnome standing in the centre, dressed in purple robes, a gold star stitched into his pointy hat.  The gnome looked around the room, his beady eyes filled with malice as a sinister smirk spread across his face.</p><p>He stepped towards the edge of the counter, sparks flying from his fingertips as he threw his arms wide.  “I!  HAVE!  RETURNED!”</p><p>“...What are we doing for dinner?” Angelina asked after a moment of silence.  “I could cook the salmon from our fishing trip?”</p><p>“Nah, Mom said they’d bring us something back from Smokey Joe’s.”</p><p>“Okay, maybe we can have it tomorrow.”</p><p>Biff looked at each of the human girls, his arms dropping slightly at their lack of fear.  He shook his head, deciding that he wouldn’t let a failed first attempt deter him.  “I!  Have! Returned!” he shouted again.</p><p>“So what should we watch tonight?” Bethany asked.  “Movie?  Show?  Anything new?”</p><p>“There’s this new anime I think you two would love, about the leader of this space colony who’s trying to broker a peace between one of their neighbouring colonies to unite against this ancient enemy but she’s-”</p><p>“Really not into anything political right now.  What else?”</p><p>“I have returned!”</p><p>“I saw an advert for this totally, awesomely rad show, about a secret agent who goes undercover to stop an evil genius, but they find out and do experiments on him!  So they give him dinosaur DNA, which gives him dino powers that he uses to fight them while searching for a cure, while trying to keep it all a secret from his wife and kids!”</p><p>“I - I have returned!”</p><p>“Why would they experiment on the guy who’s fighting them if a side effect can give him superpowers?  Just shoot him.  And why would he want a cure for something that gives you superpowers?”</p><p>“I dunno, that’s why I’m so excited to find out!  Mystery!”</p><p>“I have returned?”</p><p>“Maybe we should watch more of one of the shows we’ve already started?  At this rate we’ll forget what happened or get spoilers if we don’t catch up.”</p><p>Biff looked between the sisters, his heart dropping as they continued to ignore him.  He pulled out the magic tome he’d spent the last several months searching for, his eagerness to test the spells within ruined by their indifference.  “I have returned,” he sighed one last time, slipping the tome back into his robes and making his way towards the window.  “You’ll rue the day you crossed me,” he added before he hopped out, though his heart wasn’t in it, Bethany closing it behind him.</p><p>“Ugh, that image is gonna haunt me,” Stan growled stepping into the shop.</p><p>“You okay, Grandpa Stan?” Louise asked as he leaned against the counter.  </p><p>“Yep,” Stan grunted, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes.  “Nothin’ some bleach and a melon scoop wouldn’t fix.”  He looked at his watch and let out a loud groan.  “Great, now it’s too late to buy a round before the game.  That’s it, test out those toys and tell your folk I’ll see them later.  And I’m taking the spare jeep!  No way I’m going anywhere in my car,” he growled, shaking his head in disgust.</p><p>“Hang on a second and I’ll drive you,” Angelina said, looking for her jacket.</p><p>“Nah, I’ll be out late,” Stan said, waving away her offer.  “If you take me I’d have to grab a cab afterwards and you know those crooks overcharge!  Anyway, your parents’ll be home soon and you’ll miss your dinner.”</p><p>“You sure, Grandpa Stan?” Bethany asked, looking out the window.  “Seems pretty bad out there.”</p><p>“I’m sure,” he said in a tone they were all familiar with.  “I’m not blind yet and I’ve been driving the same road since before your Dad was born.  Besides,” he added, glaring out the window and thinking back to his fortune from that afternoon, “I’m too miserable to die.”</p><p>They seemed a little puzzled by that but they knew better than to waste their time arguing with him so simply waved goodbye as he left, driving too fast as he always did.</p><p>The rain was heavy, giving only him only glimpses of the road ahead, even with the windshield wipers on full.  Stan mumbled curses as he sped through the woods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he thought of his car and the advantage he’d lost in the card game.</p><p>“All her fault,” he grumbled bitterly as he tore round a corner, tyres skidding on the wet asphalt.  “Nerve of that girl, ruining my car like that.  Who knows who saw it?  Going to be the laughing stock of the town.  Geez, wait’ll Wendy hears!  Swear, if any of them say one word, I’ll-”</p><p>
  <em> Deer! </em>
</p><p>Stan wrestled with the wheel as the jeep went into a spin in his attempt to avoid it, his head and heart pounding as the world went round and round, the rain-soaked road offering no grip to stop it as he lost control, barely able to see through the rain, couldn’t get control, couldn’t-</p><p>Stan felt his stomach lurch as he heard a bump that vibrated through his body before gravity seemed to fail, everything inside floating through the air as the world slowed down, his eyes widening as he saw what he was heading towards.</p><p>And, as annoyingly, stupidly cliché as he would otherwise have found it, visions flashed before his eyes.  Not every memory, thankfully, but the important ones.  The faces of the people who’d mattered most, running through his mind as clearly as if they had been right in front of him, some more frequent than others.</p><p>Ford.  Ma.  Pa.  Shermy. Ford.  Carla.  Ma.  Ford.  Shermy.  Dipper.  Mabel.  Soos. Dipper.  Mabel.  Soos.  Wendy.  Dipper.  Mabel.  Ford.  Mabel.  Soos.  Melody.  Pacifica.  Dipper.  Wendy.  Soos.  Melody.  Laura.  Melanie.  Angelina.  Louise.  Bethany.  Mabel.  Dipper.  Pacifica.  Olivia.  Sylvia.  Mabel.  Tommy.  Mabel.</p><p>Mabel.</p><p>
  <em> “You stupid, miserable old man!” </em>
</p><p>Seeing her face flash last and longest in front of him, he had just enough time to smile before he hit the tree.</p><p>And Stanley Pines died a very happy man.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Apparently there’s this boy in Laura’s class,” Melody began, as Soos drove them back home.  “Nothing official yet but they’ve been spending a bit of time together.”</p><p>“Oh?” said Soos, taking care on the wet road, the rain pouring down.</p><p>“Yep.  They're working on a class project.  Gave her some advice about her computer.”</p><p>“Must be pretty smart if he can teach Melanie something,” Soos noted, knowing how clever their oldest was when it came to technology.</p><p>“Maybe,” Melody said with a playful smile.  “Or maybe he’s so cute she’s willing to let him tell her things she already knows to spend time with him."</p><p>“She told you that?”</p><p>“Like she’d ever tell me something like that!  No, this came from her sister.”</p><p>“That sounds like Melanie,” Soos agreed, thinking of their second-oldest as he slowed down to turn a corner.</p><p>When they’d first seriously spoken about their future together, Soos had been open about wanting one child for every day of the week.  And Melody had been open to the idea at the time and remained so even after they had Laura, figuring it would get easier with experience.  When Melanie was born, a tired Melody realised how wrong she was and made a silent promise to speak to Soos about calling it quits after they had a boy since she would prefer to have at least one of each.  Three girls later and a very tired Melody suggested that five was plenty since it would give them the weekends off and Soos agreed that made sense.</p><p>Now their oldest two were in college, studying engineering and computer engineering, and the Shack seemed that little less full of life, even a couple of years later.  But both girls phoned at least twice a week and Soos and Melody were happy to hear how well they were doing.  Besides, Angelina, Louise and Bethany were still at home so they had a few more years to go before the Shack went truly quiet.</p><p>Melody was considering a dog, probably a male, to reward Soos for his years of putting up with being the only man in the house.</p><p>She received a text and read the summary out loud:  “Angelina said the carnival was fun, got some good ideas and thinks they should come to the Shack one day, help business.  They’re also hungry (surprise, surprise) and want to know if we got the special sauce they like.”</p><p>“Yeah, love that stuff!  Got extra so we can - wait.  What's that?”  Soos slowed the car down, spotting something ahead.  As they neared, they could just make out the lights of the car off the road, the rain too heavy to reveal more from inside. </p><p>“You think someone’s hurt?” Melody asked, as they came to a stop.</p><p>“Dunno, but we’ve gotta help,” Soos said immediately as they got out, holding their hands to their brow to keep the water out of their eyes, forgetting their hats in their rush.</p><p>“Soos,” Melody said in a whisper that cut through the downpour.  “That’s our car.”</p><p>They shared a look of horror beyond words as they immediately thought of their daughters.  Then they ran to the damaged vehicle, ignoring the bushes and thorns in their way, terrified to see who was behind the wheel.  </p><p>
  <em> It couldn’t be them, they were at home, they were safe, please God, let them be safe, let it be a mistake or someone else, anyone else but- </em>
</p><p>Soos’ mind and body came to halt as he reached the car and looked through the shattered window at the broken man inside.</p><p>“Oh, God,” breathed Melody, barely able to speak.  “Is he…”</p><p>She couldn’t finish the question.  She didn’t need to.  The answer was obvious.</p><p>Soos stretched a hand through the window, not noticing the glass rip his sleeve as he cupped the wrinkled face that for as long as he’d known it had been full of fire and a determined vigour, whatever his age.  Now the skin was colder than the rain and the pallid complexion made him look older than he’d ever been in life.</p><p>Soos dropped to his knees in the sodden mud, his teary wife holding him as he howled into the unrelenting night.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Burning the midnight oil again?" Fiddleford asked his old friend, peering into the office.</p><p>Stanford made a noise that could have been a grunt and didn't look round.</p><p>Fiddleford shook his head, not surprised that the other scientist barely seemed to register him.  He stepped inside and decided to take a gander at what was occupying him so much this time. </p><p>Ford was standing in front of a chalkboard, a six-fingered hand stroking his chin as he stared at the chalkboard full of equations that only a handful of people could begin to understand. </p><p>Fiddleford waited patiently for the other man to either notice him or come to a conclusion, looking about the room.  He'd helped design a state of the art screen for him, capable of £D images of all manner of objects, formulas, and information.  But for some reason Stanford would still rather draw them on a chalkboard.  Maybe it was nostalgia, a hesitancy to admit he sometimes struggled with the finer aspects of his screen, or maybe he just liked wiping the chalk off with a brush of his hand.  Fiddleford didn't question it, having too many eccentricities of his own to bring attention to anyone else's.</p><p>After a few minutes, Ford let out a frustrated breath and wiped a number off and replaced it with another, only then noticing that he wasn't alone.  "Fiddleford!  Where did you come from?  Why am I so hungry?"</p><p>"From my office, and you're probably hungry because you haven't eaten yet," Fiddleford replied gently.  "It's late, why not join me for dinner?  Tate'll be picking me up soon and it's been a while since they had you over."</p><p>While Fiddkeford McGuckett had regained most of his sanity and could now walk down the street and be mistaken for a mostly normal man (relatively speaking, this was Gravity Falls) there were still some obstacles he struggled with.  He still occasionally butchered or even made up words, suddenly cackled at least once a day, and every now and then would lose control over the volume or pitch of his voice.  Which wasn't too unusual in a town like theirs.  But he still hadn't learned to drive again, the procedure giving him flashbacks of the days when he built and drove giant robotic death-machines. </p><p>Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt during his lessons.  Besides, now he had family and plenty of friends who would take him wherever he needed to go so it wasn’t as if he needed one.</p><p>Ford shook his head, turning away from the board to look at the ensemble of notes and documents he had laid out on his expansive desk.  "No, I want to solve this before I do anything else.  I'm so close, I can feel it!"</p><p>"I'm sure you are," Fiddleford agreed, discreetly wiping Ford's latest amendment away and replacing it with one of his own.  "Why not tell me what the problem is, so's we can fix it together?"</p><p>"A new pair of eyes might be useful," Ford agreed.  "The issue is this part where the numbers simply refuse to - hold on."  Ford peered closer at the symbols, his lips moving as he ran the calculations through his head.  "Well, I'll be!  I must be tired!  I just solved it and didn't even realise!"</p><p>"There we go," Fiddleford said, clapping him on the shoulder.  "No reason not to join us for dinner, now!"</p><p>"I am very hungry," Ford said, feeling the tiredness hit him all at once.  He couldn't go without food or rest as long as he used too.  "And your daughter-in-law does cook those fish to perfection.  If it won't be an intrusion-"</p><p>"Perish the thought!" Fiddleford cried, slapping his back again.  "They'll look forward to it, you always keep the grandkids entertained with your stores.  Keeps the little hooligans busy for a night!  Heck, I'll call them right now, we'll add desert too."</p><p>Ford nodded with a smile as his friend left to find better reception in the hallway, considering the formula with a sense of pride, but also making a note to try and have fewer late nights.  More and more often he seemed to be solving problems without noticing until Fiddleford came along and pointed it out.</p><p>The phone on his desk rang and he frowned as he picked it up, wondering who would be calling his office at this hour. </p><p>"Hello, this is - Melody?  Are you - what's wrong?  Yes, I'm...what?"</p><p>He blinked slowly, her words taking a moment to process.  "A-are you sure?" he managed through a swallow.</p><p>He closed his eyes, hearing the wailing in the background.  "I see.  That...I see.  Yes.  T-thank you for telling me.  I'll be over as soon as I can."</p><p>He put the phone down without saying goodbye, without asking how the girls were.  The first time he'd ever done so.  He slumped into his chair and stared at one of the pictures on his desk: he and his twin together, their arms wrapped around each other aboard the Stan O' War Two.</p><p>He was faintly aware of someone calling his name and looked up in surprise to see Fiddleford and Tate McGuckett staring at him with concern, their voices sounding distant.  He looked down and found the picture in his hand but couldn't remember picking it up.  How long had passed?  He couldn't remember.  He didn't care.</p><p>He cleared his throat and shakily got to his feet.  "I can't have dinner with you tonight," he told them.  "I'm afraid something has come up."  He tried to stand the picture on his desk but his trembling hand couldn't do it, knocking over others in the process.  "I need to see my family and - and - I need to see my brother."  He gasped and almost fell as his legs seemed to fail him in that moment, clutching at the men who had jumped to help him.  "Please!" he begged, barely able to see them through his blurry vision.  "Please!  Take me to my brother!"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> “And it was huge!” Olivia Pines was telling her father, holding her arms out to show him.</p><p>“Even bigger than that!” Sylvia, her twin said, holding her arms out wider than her sister.  “Bigger than us!”</p><p>“Wow,” said Dipper, raising his eyebrows.  “I didn’t think a Compsognathus could get that big.”  He glanced over the top of their heads and saw his wife holding her hands out at a much more reasonable length, an amused smile on her face.  “You two must have been very frightened.”</p><p>“Nu-uh!” </p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Not even a little?” Dipper prodded, smiling.</p><p>Olivia hesitated slightly.  “Well, maybe a lit-”</p><p>“No way!” Sylvia drowned her out.  “We can handle anything!  Besides, Mom was there and she smacked it.”</p><p>“No one messes with my babies,” their mother stated, nodding firmly.</p><p>“Hm.  Well we’ll just have to avoid that place for a little while,” Dipper decided.</p><p>“What?” the twins shouted together in shock.</p><p>“We can’t do that!  It was fun!”</p><p>“Yeah, I want to find a big one!  Then I can ride it!”</p><p>“Or a small one to take home home!  You won’t need to feed it if they only eat leaves!”</p><p>“Pleeeaase,” they pleaded together, clasping their hands in front of them and staring up at him with big, round eyes.</p><p>“We’ll discuss it in the morning,” their mother told them.  </p><p>“Means no,” Sylvia grumbled, Olivia pouting beside her.</p><p>“It means we’ll discuss it in the morning,” she repeated though her tone confirmed her daughter was right.  “Now go get dressed for bed - it’s late and you’ll have to get up early if we’re going to get pancakes.”</p><p>“Taking us out for pancakes.  Definitely a no,” Olivia muttered as they passed her.</p><p>Dipper chuckled as they made their way upstairs.  “They know you so well.”  He frowned as he thought of what they’d told him.  “I guess the tree sap is melting again.  I’ll speak to Ford tomorrow and we can send a team down, try and find a more permanent solution.  And definitely keep them away from that area until it’s done,” he added.</p><p>“Oh, relax,” his wife said, gathering the plates.  “It was only a little thing.  Only squawked at us and I barely had to hit it to make it run away.”</p><p>“We got lucky.  Next time it could be something bigger and meaner, like a Raptor or a RadDawgCeraTops.  Don’t want the girls going up against something like that.”</p><p>“This coming from the man who chased one into a mine.”</p><p>“That was different!” he protested, a familiar argument between them.  “That was to save Waddles!  Besides, Stan and Soos were there too.”</p><p>“And I was there, and we found it by accident instead of looking for trouble,” his wife countered.  “So relax!  No one was hurt and they know they’re not old enough to go out on their own.  Need to wait until they’re in double-digits.”</p><p>“Ha ha,” Dipper sighed.  “You know what I mean!  I know it sounds hypocritical coming from me but - I worry!  This town’s scarier than most and I don’t want them going through what I did!”</p><p>“Well, you’ve only got yourself to blame.  You and your adventuring genes, that’s where all our trouble will come from.”</p><p>Dipper gave her a look.  “Really?  Like you didn’t get in your fare share?  In fact, how much were you causing, even before we met?”</p><p>“Got me there,” she sighed, remembering what she was like before she met her future husband, and even a short while after.  “But we turned out okay.  So will they.  Especially since they’ve got us to guide them through it.”</p><p>“You’re right,” he said after a reluctant pause.  “It’s just -”</p><p>“I know,” she told him gently.  “I feel the same.  But we can’t stop them.  Anymore than our parents could stop us.  We’re just going to have to accept that.”</p><p>Dipper rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at where their daughters’ room was, still not happy but at least accepting.  “Yeah, I guess,” he said after another pause.</p><p>“Great!”  She handed him the dirty dishes.  “Since I win, you can put these in the washer while I pick what to watch.”</p><p>“Like you were ever going to do it,” her husband growled, shaking his head as he walked to the kitchen, his wife smirking as she sat down and gathered the remotes.  “I’ll get it,” he called out a moment later when the phone rang.</p><p>She was still searching through their saved programs and films when she heard the tell-tale signs of the girls heading to the kitchen for their glass of water before bed.  What to watch?  Nothing with dinosaurs or any time travel, that would make Dipper paranoid about the tree sap melting.  There was that spy show but maybe something a little less intense.  Comedy to lighten the mood?  That could work, hopefully ease his anxiety a little before -</p><p>“Mommy?”</p><p>Her head shot round at the tone in her daughter’s voice, Sylvia standing at the end of the sofa while Olivia hovered in the doorway.</p><p>“Mommy, Daddy’s-” Olivia hesitated and looked back at her twin, who was glancing between her sister and something in the hallway, biting her lip nervously.  Olivia turned back to her mother, her voice very quiet.  “Mommy, Daddy’s crying.”</p><p>She looked at her children, more confused than anything at first.  Then she got up and walked to the hallway to find her husband leaning against the wall, his shoulders shaking as the phone lay on the table.</p><p>“Dipper?” There was no response, so she gave their daughters a brief pat on their heads to comfort them all before moving closer and putting a hand on his back.  “Dipper?  What is it?  What’s wrong?”</p><p>“He’s gone,” Dipper managed at last as his tears hit the floor.  “He’s gone.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Pretty sure Dad cheated,” Mabel grunted as put away the game.  </p><p>“You always say that,” Tommy said.</p><p>“That’s because he always wins!” Mabel protested.  “No way he can be that naturally lucky!”</p><p>“Well, he does say it’s all a matter of planning it out and tile placement.”</p><p>Mabel scoffed.  “Tile placement my sweet, sweet butt!”</p><p>“It is a sweet, sweet butt.”</p><p>“Aw, thank you but hold off for now, I’m ranting.  It’s statistically impossible to get that number of sixes!  I’ve played in enough casinos to know that!”</p><p>Tommy nodded along, letting her get it all out as they turned off the downstairs lights and went upstairs.  He knew it was best to go along with it and let her vent.  His sisters had taught him that long ago.  Which reminded him…</p><p>He waited for her to finish and she was halfway through brushing her teeth before that happened, still trying to speak past her brush and not caring if her husband could hear her as long as he was listening.  </p><p>“Mom wants to come over next week.”</p><p>“Ee guh?” Mabel asked incredulously, the words muffled by a mouth full of mouthwash.  </p><p>“I told her Wednesday would be fine.”</p><p>“Ug igh?  Ghuy!?”  </p><p>“Because I love her and if both your parents are allowed over, my mother is too.”</p><p>Mabel rolled her eyes and spat.  “That’s different!  You all like each other!”</p><p>Which was true: Tommy got along well with all of Mabel’s family.  Tommy’s family, on the other hand, did not approve of Mabel, firmly believing that he could do better, something his sisters and mother had only made clearer after their marriage.</p><p>Maybe it was because they were old money (it had been Pacifica who’d introduced them), that Tommy had four big sisters and Mabel was older than all of them, or maybe it was because Mabel had convinced him to take her surname when they married.  Which was definitely because she had a successful brand name and wanted to have a modern marriage.  Not because it would spite her mother-in-law.</p><p>Nope, definitely not that.</p><p>Still, they were important to Tommy and he was important to her.  Besides, she knew how valuable family was and Dipper and her parents had both told her compromise and sacrifice played a large part in marriage.  </p><p>“Fine, I’ll try to be nice,” she growled.</p><p>“You don’t have to go that far,” he told her, putting his arms around her and kissing her cheek.  “I know she won’t and I don’t want you to sit there and take it.  Just - try and put up with it for a little bit?  It’s only once in a while.”</p><p>Mabel grunted, glaring into the mirror.  “You get that,” she told him as the phone rang.  “And if it’s about that dumb car again, you have my permission to swear at him and then just hang up!”</p><p>Tommy shook his head as he picked up the phone, smiling to himself.  “Hello?”</p><p>“Hi, Tommy,” Melody croaked, her voice strained and difficult to hear over the people sobbing in the background.  “I’m sorry it’s so late but is Mabel there?  I need to speak to her.”</p><p>Tommy felt his heart drop at the tone of her first word.  He closed his eyes briefly, gathering strength.  “Yeah.  I’ll put her on.”  He went back to the bathroom, holding it out.  “It’s Melody.  Something’s happened.”</p><p>Mabel shot him a look in their reflection, feeling the dread and sadness emanating from the way he stood, the look in his eyes.  She snatched it from him and he sat down on the edge of the bath, preparing for the worst as he listened to half a conversation.</p><p>“Melody?  What - what’s wrong?  What?  No.  No!  That can’t - I just spoke to him!  It - there has to be a mistake!  We were - what?  When?  No, he can’t...oh.  I...I, uh....I-I’ll head over.  Yeah.  No, wait - it - it’s too late.  I don’t want to bother you, I can’t...okay.  Thanks.  Yeah.  I’ll...be there as soon as I can.”</p><p>She put down the phone and stared ahead, not even seeing her own face or her husband in the reflection as he got up.  “I called him stupid.”  She blinked, her own voice echoing in her mind and haunting her.  “Last thing I said.  Stupid and miserable.”  She blinked again, not even feeling her husband put his arms around her.  “I didn’t mean it.  I didn’t - he wasn’t - I could have told him I loved him, but instead we...and it was over a stupid car.”</p><p>She clutched the sink as she choked back the sobs, Tommy putting his arms around her.  “Why?  Why did I do that?  Why didn’t I say something else, tell him he-!  He-!”  She broke down, turning around to bury her head in his chest as he squeezed her tight, wishing she could have said she was sorry.</p><p>And now she would have to spend the rest of her life knowing she never did.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stanford sat in his office, alone.  He'd said he needed to be by himself for a while.  He wished he hadn't, but also knew that if someone were to ask to join him he'd still ask for his privacy.  He didn't know why.</p><p>He could hear the clock on the far away wall, each tick almost as deafening as the silence between them.  He returned to the pictures on his desk, feeling a sharp pain in his soul whenever he did so.  He couldn't stand to look at them for too long but couldn't stop himself from looking again and again.  Maybe it was to overwrite the last memory he would have of his brother until the day they buried him.</p><p>Soos and Mabel hadn't gone with them to the funeral parlour.  They hadn't said so but it was clear they couldn't handle it.  Dipper had said he could do it on his own but Ford had insisted on joining him.  Why?  Because he thought it would help him deal with the loss?  To stop his great-nephew going through it alone?  Or some sense of manly pride or duty that dictated he had to, no matter what he felt inside?  He wasn't sure, but he'd agreed to be there.</p><p>He regretted it the moment he saw his face.</p><p>He'd been immediately reminded of the mortician's explanation a few days ago.  Even then the words had sounded far away, as if through a hundred walls.  Instant.  Branch through the heart.  Dead before the car stopped.  Didn't suffer.  It wasn't much comfort but she hoped it was some.</p><p>It wasn't. </p><p>He couldn't escape the idea of his brother's last moments being filled with fear and panic before a death that was brutal, no matter how sudden.  He couldn't bare to look at his chest.  A sheet covered it, and logically he knew that they would have fixed him up by now.  Cleaned and closed the wound, added or removed whatever they had to to make him presentable enough to hide it under a suit. </p><p>But in his mind’s eye the outline looked wrong, and his imagination filled in the blanks with broken and twisted bone protruding from flesh.  </p><p>Dipper handled it well, all things considered.  He would have been impressed with how collected he stayed throughout it if he could think of such things.  But he couldn't think of anything except his brother and even those thoughts were little more than a confusing storm of too much emotion or barely any.  Before he realised it, they were back in the car, Dipper sniffling beside him.  Hours could pass without him noticing it, like in a dream.  And, like in a dream, those missing hours could feel like centuries.</p><p>Dipper was talking about the funeral, who would be coming and when, what they would have to do, the reading of the will, the wake, his wife, his children, his concern for Mabel and Soos.  Lots of things that Ford knew he should pay attention to but instead he could barely muster the strength to nod and murmur a response.  It was only when Dipper had asked what he wanted to do next that he'd found the strength to ask to go to his office.  Dipper seemed a little hesitant at first but didn't fight it.  </p><p>Now, sitting in darkness and silence, Ford wished he had.  But life was full of regrets.  He looked over the pictures on his desk.  They were good memories of all his loved ones, and not long ago he would have boasted about each day they'd been taken.  Now he only saw how much time he'd squandered.  He should have spent more time with each of them.  With him. </p><p> He looked around his office.  He'd finally achieved his life's work: he was a respected scientist with dozens of others under his command, all dedicated in the pursuit of knowledge in a facility designed to open dimensional rifts safely and securely, and study the infinite parallel realities of the multiverse.  </p><p>He'd give it all up for one more minute with his brother.</p><p>He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk for the bottle Wendy had given him during his...their last birthday.  He drank directly from the bottle as it hit him it really had been their last.  Now every year it would only be his.  Every year he'd be reminded that he was alone.  Being half a twin felt worse than being nothing.</p><p>He closed his eyes as he thought of the thirty years he'd spent without his brother.  He'd barely acknowledged his birthday then, often too busy traveling, surviving, and studying in all manners of dimensions to keep track of time, especially when it could vary from planet to planet, let alone universe to universe.  He'd lied to himself that he didn't miss his brother, lied about it so frequently and hashly that he'd started to believe it.  Until he'd almost lost him and realised how great a mistake he'd made. </p><p>Now he had lost him forever and was struggling to make it through the hours, let alone the years.  He took a grim solace in the knowledge that he was too old to go another thirty years without him.  He drank again, those previous decades seeming especially frivolous and selfish in the face of his new future.  He should have tried harder to get home.  He should have stood up to his father when they were teenagers, or gone with him when he was thrown out.  </p><p>Even when he had finally reached out and asked his brother for help, it was only for himself.  He should have asked him to come much sooner.  If he’d been able to swallow his pride they could have faced both their troubles together, like they had when they were young.  But he was too stupid and stubborn, instead demanding his brother hide his journal and -</p><p>He stopped, the bottle halfway to his lips.</p><p>There had been another universe.  He'd visited it towards the end of his travels.  A universe where Stanley had done as he'd asked and taken the journals, allowing that Stanford to avoid Bill Cipher's manipulations and create a facility similar to this.  He used to be so jealous of that man.  He'd never considered what had happened to their Stanley.</p><p>He put the bottle in his coat and walked to the portal room, a much smaller and safer version of the one he'd built all those decades ago.  He scanned the multiverse for the correct one.  People thought searching for a needle in a haystack sounded hard.  Searching for one dimension in the multiverse was like searching for a single atom in a universe.  Only infinitely harder.  </p><p>But he had a few advantages: he had been there before and he could trace dimensional signatures and search the right criteria - it didn't have to be exactly the one he visited, only similar - and using Fiddleford's computers and Dipper's algorithms he might be able to -</p><p><em> There </em>.</p><p>It had taken him a long time to find it but he hadn’t noticed at all, he was so dedicated to his task.  He swallowed as his fingers hovered over the controls, scanning the screen as he searched their history for any trace of his sibling, growing more and more frustrated that every article seemed to be about him, Stanley hardly mentioned, if at all.</p><p>Finally, he found his brother’s obituary.</p><p>His knees almost buckled as he read it, seeing his brother’s life summed up to only a few words on a page, staring at the life he’d lived in this other world.  </p><p>There was no mention of his bravery, his dedication to family, his humour, the sheer strength of will and character that had been Stanley Pines.  This was just another reminder of how much he’d let his brother down.  He thought he’d been selfish in his own universe and now he’d never feel like he could truly make it up to him.  But this version of himself was even worse.</p><p>His shock and grief gave way to fury and indignation as he thought of the Ford in this alternate reality.  This man had failed his brother even worse than he had.  It said Stanley had died alone.  No family by his side, while his lesser twin was probably basking in the company of renowned scientists, with no idea the great loss the world had suffered.</p><p>He took another swig and glared at the articles regarding his other self, hating him more in that moment than he could remember hating anyone.</p><p>Here he was, his life seeming desolate without his twin, while this other version had no idea of how much he had lost.  His own success seemed paltry compared to this other Stanford but he knew that if it were him, he would give it all up in a second just to see his brother one more time, to be with him while he died-</p><p>He froze as an idea formed.  It wasn’t much of an idea; forged primarily through grief, alcohol, and emotional instinct.  But he couldn’t let it go.</p><p>He couldn’t use time travel to change anything.  He was allowed to study other realities as much as he wanted, but any attempts to change the past or future and Time Baby and his forces would find out and kill him before he’d even thought about it.</p><p>But this wouldn’t be his past.  Technically, it wouldn’t even need to be <em> their </em>past.  If he altered the scans - found a universe exactly the same, save one day younger - he could find their Stanley, hopefully offering him at least some comfort.  </p><p>His fingers were dancing over the controls before he even realised it, focusing on that desired universe, his movements sloppy and slow despite his urgency, thanks to the drink that helped motivate him.</p><p>It was only when the portal lit up that he hesitated.</p><p>He’d sworn not to interfere with other universes, merely observe.  But this wasn’t interfering, was it?  He knew one night wouldn’t be enough to save him, merely to see him one last time.  Besides, this universe probably knew more about other universes than he did, and likely had an entire task force designed to handle any anomalies.  He knew every precaution to take, every danger to avoid.  And he didn't want to change anything.  He had no interest in interacting with his other self.  No.  He just had to see him one last time. Even if that felt like he was cheating at the rules he’d designed.</p><p>Stanley always loved a cheater.</p><p>He took one last swig for courage and stepped into the light, with no plan for what he’d do next.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I don’t like it,” Sylvia Pines pouted, looking down at her black dress.</p><p>“I know it isn’t what you normally wear but it’s only for one day,” her mother told her gently, checking her over to make sure it fit.  “And you still look very pretty.  You both do,” she added, seeing Olivia also frowning at her dress.</p><p>“Hm,” Olivia said, looking even unhappier than her sister, which wasn’t too unusual but she’d been especially unhappy today.  </p><p>Her mother was almost about to say something else to try and cheer them up when they heard a car approach the house.  “That’s your Dad,” she told them, straightening their dresses and brushing the hair away from their faces.  “Now you two go show him how nice you look and give him and Great-Grunkle Ford a great big hug, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Sylvia said, not needing an excuse to hug anyone and rushing to the front door, Olivia only grunting and moving much slower than her twin.</p><p>She let a deep breath out of her nostrils once they’d left, wishing she could spare them from the sorrowful atmosphere that was infecting the family, trying and failing to keep them happy.  It was hard when they were young.  She wished they’d been spared something like this until they were a little older.  She wished they’d been spared this until they were <em> all </em>a little older.</p><p>She collected herself and went downstairs, surprised to see that Dipper was alone, his arms around their children.  “Ford isn’t with you?”</p><p>“He wanted to go back to the office,” Dipper explained, letting the girls go.  “He said he wanted to be alone.  Don’t you look lovely!  Those are very nice dresses, you suit them very well.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Sylvia mumbled, looking down at her dress.  “But I wish it wasn’t black.”</p><p>“Black makes me sad,” Olivia said quietly, looking away.</p><p>“It’s meant to be respectful and make you look dignified,'' their mother explained, sharing a glance with Dipper.</p><p>“Can I add stickers to it?” Sylvia asked.  </p><p>“That’s not really-” their mother began before Dipper interrupted.</p><p>“I think that will look nice,” he said, rubbing her head.  “Stickers at a funeral.  Stan would have liked that,” he said, giving his wife a weak smile.</p><p>“I’ll ask Auntie Mabel for help!” Sylvia declared, walking into the living room.</p><p>Mabel sat on their sofa, her hands clasped and staring down at the gap between her forearms.  It was only when her nieces called her name a second time that she managed to temporarily shake herself out of her stupor.  “Hmm?  Sorry, sweetie, what was that?”</p><p>“I asked if you wanted to help me make my dress pretty for Great-Grunkle Stan,” Sylvia repeated quieter, her smile fading a little.</p><p>Mabel blinked, confused for a bit too long.  Then she erupted into a smile that stretched a little too wide.  “Sure!  That sounds great!  We’ll make you stand out!  What were you thinking?”</p><p>“I’ve got badges and stickers!” Sylvia declared, relaxing a little while her parents watched silently by the door.  “I’ve got kitties and puppies and flowers!  And pigs!  Want to see?”</p><p>“Um,” said Mabel, her own smile faltering a little before her husband jumped in.</p><p>“Got any dinosaurs?” he asked, leaning forward and putting his hands on his knees.  “I like them and they’re much cuter than kittens!”</p><p>“Are not!” Sylvia yelled, her cheeks puffing out in indignation.</p><p>“Are too!”</p><p>“Not!</p><p>“Oh yeah?” he challenged, putting his hands on his hips.  “Well take me to your stickers and we’ll see who’s right!”</p><p>“And we can tell Tommy all about our adventure with that little dinosaur,” their mother said, putting a hand on Olivia’s shoulder.  She looked down at her less exuberant daughter.  “Doesn’t that sound fun?” </p><p>Olivia only grunted in response but followed them up the stairs anyway, leaving Dipper and Mabel alone.  “How was it?” she quietly asked as he sat beside her.</p><p>He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of the best way to describe the sea of emotions he’d felt.  “Hard,” he answered, giving up after only a second.  “It was...it was hard.  They made him look good, all things considering.  Really good.  Like they’d taken a few years off.  Can’t even see the scratches on his face.”</p><p>“That’s good.  It’d be a lot harder if it showed...what had happened.”</p><p>Dipper leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him taking up the same position she had only moments ago.  “Yeah,” he answered as he stared into space, Mabel leaning back and staring up at the ceiling as they sat in silence.  </p><p>It was a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable.  Merely heavy.  Two people lost in memories and emotions, so lost they forgot the other was there, despite how similar their thoughts were.  It was only when they heard a noise from upstairs that they returned to the present.</p><p>“How are the girls taking it?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he admitted warily.  “We’ve explained it to them.  Tried to.  And we want to keep things as normal as we can.  But it’s difficult.  Sylvia seems okay but Olivia…” he trailed off.  While his older twin took after his wife more than anything, many had pointed out she could be as perceptive and sensitive as her father was at that age.  It wasn’t the first time that had been troublesome, but it was the first time he wasn’t proud of their shared trait.</p><p>“Hmm,” Mabel said, also noting her niece’s pensiveness.  Then she suddenly noticed that her brother had returned alone.  “What about Ford?  Was he okay?”</p><p>Dipper sighed.  “No.  I don’t know.  He was quiet.  Never said a word.  Just...stared.  He asked me to drop him off at the lab on our way back but...I don’t think he should have come.  I shouldn’t have asked, I should have went myself and-”</p><p>“He didn’t want you to go through it alone,” she interrupted, hearing a familiar self-criticizing tone gathering strength.  “You know what Stan always said: family sticks together.  If anything, I should have come with you.  I shouldn’t have left you two to do it, I should have-”</p><p>“You were helping Soos,” he said, interrupting her this time as her voice started to break. “Poor guy’s taken it harder than any of us.  Then you came here to play with my girls.  To try and cheer them up.  I understand, Mabel.  So does Ford.  We’re all struggling but we’ve got each other to help us get through it.”  He frowned.  “And you’re right: family sticks together.  Now more than ever.”</p><p>He stood up and reached for his keys.  “I’m going back to the lab.  I don’t think he should be alone right now.  I’ll bring back dinner.  Really don’t feel like cooking tonight.”</p><p>“Okay,” Mabel said, getting up as well and giving him a faint smile.  “I’ll let them know.  Hey, get something unhealthy, okay?  Think we all need something bad to cheer us up right now.”</p><p>He smiled and waved as he left, Mabel returning both until the door closed.  Then the smile dropped faster than her hand.  She should have gone with them.  Offered them support.  Soos had been grieving but he had Melody and his daughters to offer comfort.  All of them now that Laura and Melanie had returned home from college.  But she’d still left her brother and great uncle to face it alone.  </p><p>She’d wanted to go with them.  She knew she should have.  But every time she thought of it, she remembered the last thing she’d said to him, how upset she must have made him, knowing his final moments of life her probably spent think of her and what she’d said-</p><p>She took a sharp breath and blinked rapidly, hearing her nieces upstairs.  She’d grieve later.  Now wasn’t the time.  Her family needed her to help them, she didn't need to upset them by showing she was barely coping.</p><p>So she forced a smile on her face and made her way upstairs, unaware of the small, annoyingly familiar figure scampering towards the house and up the wall.</p><p>When she stepped into her nieces’ bedroom, they were lying on the floor, drawing with their crayons and despite everything she felt a little proud to see that Sylvia took after her in artistic talent and not just general personality.  “Hey!  Whatcha got there?”</p><p>“Kitty,” she answered simply, holding it up so Mabel could see it better, Olivia doing the same with hers, a dog that was nowhere near as colourful as her sister’s drawing.</p><p>“Dinosaur would’ve been better,” a voice mumbled from the closet.</p><p>“No talking in the naughty closet!” Sylvia yelled at her uncle.  “Mom!  Tell him!”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s not allowed,” another voice said from the same closet.</p><p>Mabel raised her eyebrow.  “Tommy I get, but what did your Mom do?”</p><p>Olivia shrugged as the girls returned to their art.  “Caught her trying to say the comp - compso- the dino wasn’t as big as we said it was.”</p><p>“Yeah, no one corrects us!  If we say it was as big as us, it was as big as us!”</p><p>“You sure it wasn’t just standing on a rock?” Mabel asked, tilting her head innocently.</p><p>“Do you want to go in the naughty closet?” Sylvia warned, pointing at her with a crayon.</p><p>Before Mabel could respond, their bedroom window was flung open, a cloud of purple smoke billowing forth, and a small robed figure stepped out of the cloud, his eyes glinting with malice.  “I! HAVE!  RETURNED!”</p><p>“Hi, Biff!” the girls sang together, not looking up from their drawings.</p><p>“Oh, thank God,” their mother breathed, poking her head out of the closet.  “I was worried it was someone dangerous.”</p><p>“I am dangerous!” Biff snarled, shaking in fury.</p><p>“So this is Biff, huh?” Tommy asked, stepping out and holding out his hand.  “Don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.  Hi, I’m Tommy, Mabel’s husband.  She’s told me all about you.”</p><p>“R-Really?” he asked, his eyes wide.  “What did she say?  Did she tell you that I’m the horror that haunts her dreams with my vile acts of wickedness?”</p><p>Tommy blinked.  He looked at the women in the room, who shook their heads in sad sympathy.  “Um...sure?”</p><p>Biff sniffed loudly, his eyes welling up with tears.  “Thank you, pathetic human.  When I enslave mankind I’ll make sure to reward your kind words by transforming you into something useful.  Like a trampoline.”</p><p>“...Riiight,” said Tommy, seeing that Mabel really hadn’t been exaggerating in her stories.</p><p>“Why does he get to be a trampoline?” Olivia pouted.  “How come we only get to be slinkies?”</p><p>“I like slinkies,” her sister said, not seeing what the problem was.</p><p>“Look, Biff, can you take your scheme somewhere else today?” their mother asked.  “Now’s not a good time.  What about next week?”</p><p>“Silence, foolish human!” Biff cried, pointing a finger at her.  “I have not been plotting so long just so you may dismiss me?  No, I bet you thought you were safe, that I was gone for good!  But you were wrong!  I was merely building my power, so that I could have my revenge!”</p><p>“Wait, were you away somewhere?” Mabel asked, puzzled.  </p><p>“W-what?” Biff stopped staring at her.  “What do you mean?  I was gone for six months!”</p><p>Mabel snorted.  “No way!  Last time you appeared was Wendy’s birthday, when me and Paz - wait.”  She frowned, turning to her sister-in-law.  “Was that really that long ago?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” she answered, thinking hard.  “Wow.  Six months.  Time really does fly.”</p><p>“And you never noticed I was gone?”  Biff screeched.  “Six months, and you didn’t think to check what awful plot I was making?”</p><p>“No.  You weren’t important,” Olivia told him, making him flinch.</p><p>“That’s mean, even if it’s true,” Sylvia told her sister critically, making him flinch more.</p><p>“You - I - stupid humans!” he yelled suddenly, drawing a tiny, ancient tome from his robes.  “You’ll soon show me the respect I deserve!  I have uncovered great magic while I was gone!  And now I’m ready to bring about the destruction of the one who thwarted me last time!”</p><p>“Us?” the twins asked, their mother reaching for a heavy lamp as her parental instincts acted up.</p><p>“YOU DID NOT DEFEAT ME!” Biff screamed, jumping up and down in rage.  “I was not beaten by little girls!”</p><p>“Yes you were, we-”</p><p>“SHUT UP!” Biff roared, the sisters glaring at him.  “No, I mean the one who was guarding you while your parents were away!”</p><p>“Oh no,” their mother breathed, the lamp lowering as she realised what he was about to say.</p><p>“Yes!” Biff cried, satisfied to finally catch a sense of fear in the air and mistaking it’s reason.  “Tonight!  Is the night that Stanley Pines dies!”</p><p>There was a stunned silence in the room as everyone turned to Mabel.</p><p>The young woman stood frozen on the spot, looking stricken.  She saw his face again and again, her last words to him running through her mind until it became too much.</p><p>She tried to fight it, feeling her husband and niece’s eyes on her and wanting to show them strength.  But she couldn’t hold back the pain any more and she let out a choking, painful sob before she ran from the room, Tommy quickly behind her.</p><p>“Wow,” said Biff, surprised at her response.  “I really am a mighty foe.”</p><p>His joy was quashed when a small figure jumped up, grabbed him by the front of his robes and threw him on the floor, punching and kicking and snarling.</p><p>“YOU! MADE!  MY!  HAPPY!  AUNTIE!  CRY!” Olivia shouted, a fist striking his face with every word, each blow carrying a surprising amount of strength for one so young and with such thin arms.  “I!  HATE! YOU!”</p><p>“Okay, okay, okay!” Her mother yelled after she’d recovered from the shock, pulling her off the groaning gnome but struggling to stop her attacking again.  “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay, we just need to-”</p><p>“It’s not okay!” Olivia yelled, shaking herself free of her mother’s grasp.  “Mabel’s crying!  Dad cried!  Everyone’s crying but - but you keep saying it’s okay!”  She looked up at her mother with tear-filled eyes, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.  “Why?” she demanded.  “Why do you keep saying that?”</p><p>She faltered, seeing the pain in her child’s eyes and unsure how to ease it.  She looked at her other daughter and saw the confused tears in her eyes too.  Finally, she looked within herself and saw the pain she’d been bottling up.</p><p>She took a deep breath and turned away from them to pick up the wounded gnome, throwing him out the window like an insect, deciding he didn’t deserve to be near them right now.  She thought of everything Stan meant to her.  The gruff, surly man who had taken her in when she was still that stupid, troublesome kid who’d never shown him any respect at the start. </p><p>“You’re right,” she began, clenching her fists on the windowsill as she watched Biff crawl away in defeat, his bouncy gnome form preventing any serious damage from the fall.  “Things aren’t okay.  Your Great-Grunkle - he’s gone.  He’s gone and he’s not coming back.  And - that hurts.  It hurts so much.  Your Dad, your aunt, your uncle Soos - they’re all hurting even more than we are.  So that’s why we have to be strong for them.”</p><p>She turned back to her daughters, the tears streaming down her cheeks.  “But that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we don’t hurt.  It just means we should accept that we’re all hurting.  To try and help each other.  Because we miss him.”  She dropped to her knees, her arms outstretched so her daughters could rush to her, welcoming the embrace.  “We all miss him,” she whispered, kissing them on the top of their heads as they cried in her arms, finding some solace in the closeness, despite the pain they were all suffering.</p><p>She looked up and saw that Tommy and Mabel had returned, the other woman trembling and teary-eyed despite her husband’s arm around her.  “It’s not okay,” she said again, as much to herself as to her daughters or her sister-in-law.  “But one day it will be.  As impossible as that seems, as long as it takes, one day things will be okay again,” she promised, holding them even tighter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stan coughed, a wet, hacking rattle that went on for too long until he turned up the oxygen in the tank he took everywhere.  Not that he actually went anywhere.  Too stiff, too sore, too fat, too old.  These days he couldn’t escape groaning just reaching for the remote, let alone actually leaving the rundown motel room.</p><p>He proved this by letting one out when he reached for the device to turn off the television.  He barely knew why he put it on these days, nothing kept his attention.  The news kept running the same stupid stories about awful people, the only differences were the names and the places.  He’d seen every film on the Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel and all the best contestants of Baby Fights had grown up.  Sure, some of them had babies of their own now who had taken up the family business, but sports was nowhere near as fun as it was before the government forced the companies to care for their players' safety.</p><p>Valuing human life over entertainment.  What was the world coming to?</p><p>He turned the TV off and settled back in his chair, glaring at the stack of medication on a nearby table.  He should be taking more of it but it was so damn expensive, he was spreading each bottle out as much as he could.  The doctors said that wasn’t a good idea but they weren’t the ones paying for it, so what did they know?</p><p>Besides, he was tired and couldn’t be bothered leaving the comfy chair.  He was tired a lot these days.  Even more than usual for him, and he could sleep for most of the day.  He hit the lever on the side of his chair, feeling his back creak even as he put it in a more comfortable position.  He’d worry about that tomorrow.  It was almost seven and he needed his sleep.</p><p>He closed his eyes, the pointlessness of surviving and the aches and pains of living fading away as the world faded to a comforting black…</p><p>He jerked awake as the doorbell rang, persistent and loud and annoying beyond words.</p><p>“Go away!  </p><p>There was a slight pause before the ringing continued, even more persistent than before.  </p><p>Stan let out a groan that was only half frustration, his knees clicking loudly in protests as they were put to work again.  He shuffled over to the door, raised his walking stick and threw the door open.  “For the love of-”</p><p>He stopped as he saw a distorted reflection of himself; wearing a nice suit compared to his sloppy boxers, slippers and worn shirt, thin and relatively fit where he was round and saggy, standing straight while he was hunched.  He looked fifteen years younger instead of fifteen minutes older.  </p><p>Ford swallowed loudly in the silence, somehow looking even more shocked than Stan felt.  “Hello, Stanley.  I came to-”</p><p>The rest of whatever he was about to say was stopped by a fist hitting him so hard it cracked his nose and knocked him on his back.</p><p>Stan stood panting over his brother, his lip curling at the sight of his twin on the ground.  “I don’t care.  Whatever you want, I don’t care.  I’m done.  We’re done.  Leave and never come back.”</p><p>He closed the door, only then allowing himself to slump to the floor as he clutched his chest.  He dragged himself over to his medicine, popping a few too-expensive pills in his mouth. </p><p><em> Idiot.  Shouldn’t have done that.  Know you’re not supposed to exert or excite yourself, doctors said.  </em> He reached for his tank and took a few deep breaths.  <em> Eh, it was worth it.  Look on his face!  Serves him right.  Probably huffing and puffing at the door right now.  Always did hate being interrupted. </em></p><p>He paused but heard nothing.  Not even when his breathing had returned to it’s relatively quiet standard.  Puzzled and curious, he made his way back to the door and put his eye to the peephole, wondering if he’d hit him harder than he’d thought.</p><p>Stanford Pines lay on his back, staring at the door in silence.  Stan frowned at his brother’s expression.  It wasn’t angry.  He wasn’t sure what it was - sad, pained, disappointed maybe - but definitely not angry.  The two men stared for several long minutes, one at the closed door, the other at the man staring at the door, until Stanford finally got to his feet.  He put a hand on the door, Stan taking a step back in surprise.  “I’m sorry,” he heard him whisper through the poor quality wood and thin walls, then the shuffling of feet as he slowly walked away.</p><p>Stan returned to the peephole to watch his retreating figure, the heavy steps, hunched back and hands deep in his pocket making his brother look much older than he had when he’d first opened the door.  No.  He didn’t look old, he looked...broken.</p><p>Before he knew what he was doing, the door was open again, just enough for his head to peer out.  “Sorry for what?”</p><p>Ford jumped in surprise, turning back to his brother and Stan felt his temper rise a little to see that there was actually some relief in his eyes for a moment.  “Stanley!  I, uh, can I come in?  I wanted to-”</p><p>“Sorry for what?” Stan repeated again, louder.</p><p>“For everything!” his brother blurted out, taking a step forward with outstretched hands, coming to a sudden halt when Stan leaned back, the door closing slightly.  “For how I treated you, for what I did when we were young, for what I said and never did, for - for everything!”</p><p>Stan peered at his brother, noticing the way he swayed a little as he spoke and how his words slurred.  “Have you been drinking?”</p><p>“No!  Well, yes.  But only a little! See, I’ve only had-” he stopped and pulled a bottle out of his pocket, considering the alcohol content and how much was left.  “Wow.  I should not be using interdimensional travel in this condition.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What?” Ford repeated, looking back at his brother and blinking too slowly.</p><p>Stan rolled his eyes.  “Forget it.  Why are you here?  It’s been over fifty years, why come see me now?”</p><p>Ford stared back at him, a little lost for words as he seemed to think about the answer.  Stan was about to give up and snap at him to hurry up when he finally got a response.  “I lost my best friend.”</p><p>Ford swallowed, blinking back the tears as he swayed a little again, though Stan didn’t think it was the alcohol this time.  “He, uh, he died.  It wasn’t - it was only a few days ago.  We’re going to bury him tomorrow.  He - I can’t stop thinking about him.  Us.  What he did for me and what little I did for him in return.  How selfish I was and what he gave up for me.  And - I should have done more for him.  I should have said that I-” </p><p>He looked up at Stanley, his eyes pleading in a way Stan had only seen in the most desperate of men.  He scanned Stan’s face as if searching for something, though Stan couldn’t figure out what.  But then the moment passed and Ford shook his head, sobering up a little in that moment as if realising Stan didn’t have the answer.</p><p>“This was a mistake,” he said, sounding apologetic even as he clenched his fist.  “You’re not...I shouldn’t have come.  You don’t deserve to have me come to you with my problems.  You deserve better Stanley.  You always have.”  He closed his eyes and started to walk away, feeling the guilt gnaw at him for disrupting his brother’s life in two universes.</p><p>“Wait!”</p><p>Ford looked back, startled to see Stan hesitate a moment before opening the door, scratching his chin awkwardly and looking away.  “Do, uh, do you want to come inside?”</p><p>Stan stepped away from the door, cleaning up a little as the man he used to consider his brother followed him.  Neither said anything as Stan swiped half-eaten takeaways, bottles, and other trash into a black bag and threw it in the corner, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of his home.  </p><p>He’d seen Ford on television a few times, accepting a Nobel Peace Prize, acting as scientific adviser for a major crisis, interviews on TV, things like that.  He knew how successful he’d been and how much of a hovel this must be compared to the giant mansion he was probably living in.  </p><p>But Ford didn’t react to any of it, merely taking it all in.  The only thing he seemed to focus on was the stack of pills, his eyes lingering a little too long.  But he didn’t say anything, just sat down in the less comfortable chair as he waited.</p><p>“So,” Stan said, sitting down in his favourite chair with a grunt followed by a satisfying sigh.</p><p>“So,” Ford agreed.</p><p>There was a silence between them, neither sure how to proceed, each shifting uncomfortably in their seats.  It was after a few minutes of this that Ford's eyes landed on something familiar.  “Is that-?”  He got up and walked to Stan’s bedside table.  “Mabel?” he asked in surprise, picking up the picture.</p><p>“Came to see you too, huh?” Stan guessed, looking over his shoulder since he’d gotten up too many times already.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“For that stupid school project,” Stan said, sounding a little confused.  “Family tree and all that crap.  Surprised she even found out about me.  But I guess Shermy still had some good memories of me to tell her.”</p><p>“Yes,” Ford said, looking at the picture of the young woman smiling broadly as she wrapped her arms around a sulking Stan.  His lips twinged.  “Shermy was a good brother.  Better than I was in the end.”</p><p>“That’s for sure,” Stan grunted.  He flinched as soon as he said it but Ford didn’t.  In fact, he only nodded sadly in agreement, and Stan was surprised to find he was starting to feel a little guilty.  </p><p>“She must be very important to you to have her picture,” Ford noted, putting it back where it was.</p><p>“She’s...a decent kid,” Stan grudgingly replied.</p><p>Ford smiled at her grinning face.  “No.  She’s a wonderful woman.  I’m very proud of her.  Her and Mason.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>Ford turned round in surprise.  “Mason?  Er, Dipper?  He has a birthmark in the shape of a constellation on his forehead?”</p><p>Stan shrugged.  “Don’t know any Mason Dipper, and that birthmark thing ain’t ringing any bells either.”</p><p>Ford made a face and seemed a little sad for a moment.  “That’s...a shame.  He’s a very bright boy.  Still, at least you’ve met Mabel.” He considered the picture again, noting Stan’s appearance and deciding it must have been taken recently.  “Does she visit you often?”</p><p>“Every now and then,” Stan grunted, sounding embarrassed.  “She’s busy and far away.  But she calls me.  ‘Bout once a week.   Just to chat, y’know?”</p><p>“Yes, that sounds like her,” Ford said, returning to his seat.  “She speaks very highly of you.”</p><p>Stan scoffed.  “Yeah, right!  Kid’s an awful judge of character if that’s true!  What could she possibly say about me?”</p><p>Ford looked him in the eye.  “She’s often told me and others how much you matter to her.  How kind you’ve been, the laughs you’ve shared.  How sometimes, in a world that doesn’t seem to understand her, you can.  And how proud she is to have a great uncle like you.”</p><p>Stan blinked, taken aback by his brother’s tone.  He looked away again and cleared his throat.  “Like I said: bad judge of character.” </p><p>Ford chuckled.  It wasn’t much of one but it was the first laugh he’d had in days.  Though his lighter mood didn't last long.  “My - friend?  The one who passed.  I suppose you could say he introduced me to her.  I don’t think I ever thanked him for that.  Not really.  And I should have.  I should have thanked him for a lot of things.  He did so much for me.  It’s funny.  He also got me in so much trouble.  But he would always help me get out of it, and then laugh and joke about it, act as if that made up for causing it in the first place.”</p><p>“Heh.  Sounds like me and him would get along well.”</p><p>Ford smirked.  “I think if you two were in the same room...you’d either hate or love each other.  Not sure which.  But!  I do know he would have found it hilarious if I told him you’d punched me like that!” </p><p>He let out a laugh and it was so heartfelt that Stan couldn’t help joining in towards the end.  “Can’t say it didn’t feel good,” Stan admitted as their laughter started to fade.</p><p>“Oh, I’ll bet,” Ford grinned.  The grin faded suddenly.  “Can’t say I didn’t deserve it either.  My friend was more important to me than I ever realised.  And I already thought he was important.  But now he’s gone.  He - he was the one who reminded me how important family was.  Something I should never have forgotten,” he said in a whisper and he had to stop for a moment, Stan sitting silently as he waited  for the words he’d wanted to hear for so long.</p><p>Ford cleared his throat and looked up from his shoes, wishing he’d said these words a long time ago.  “I’m sorry, Stanley.  For everything.  I should never have -”</p><p>“Forget it,” Stan said, waving his apology away.  The apology he’d been waiting to hear for most of his life.  The one he felt he deserved a hundred times over.  The apology that had kept him awake for hundreds of nights as its absence burned at him like an untreated wound.  “It doesn’t matter,” he said and was amazed to find he meant it.</p><p>“It does matter!” Ford protested.  “All those years, Stanley!  Decades we could have had together!  We were inseparable and I let my stupid ego tear us apart!  We could have done so much together but -”</p><p>“We’re here now, aren’t we?” Stan snapped.  “And what, you think I haven’t done stuff just because I didn’t have you with me?  News flash genius, I’ve done plenty of great things!  Sure, I haven’t gotten my names in magazines (well, none that I’m proud of) but I’ve lived a damn good life, thank you very much!”</p><p>Ford blinked, looking dumbfounded for a second.  Then his expression changed to one of determination.  “Tell me about them.”</p><p>“What?” Stan grunted, rubbing his chest before reaching for more pills, too annoyed to question why he seemed to need more than usual.</p><p>“Tell me about the things you’ve done,” Ford repeated.  “All of them.  Tell me about everything you’ve accomplished.”</p><p>Stan hesitated, his boasting suddenly sounding exaggerated now that he thought of what his twin had accomplished, or seen in other universes.  “Well, I mean...they’re not very scientific.  Or legal, even.  Some ain’t even decent.  You don’t really want to-”</p><p>“Yes, I do,” Ford stated, edging his seat closer.  “I want nothing more than to hear about your life, Stanley.”</p><p>Stan looked back at his brother, eagerly waiting to hear of his exploits.  He couldn’t help but grin.  “Well, alright then!  But don’t say I didn’t warn you!  Say, you got any more of that booze?  I’ve got a couple of glasses and-”</p><p>Ford jumped up from his seat and marched to the kitchen, returning with two glasses in one hand and the bottle in his other.</p><p>“Probably shouldn’t drink this,” Stan said with a roguish grin.  “Doesn’t go well with my meds.  Oh well!  Can’t live forever, can we?”</p><p>Ford froze, the bottle hovering over their glasses.  He closed his eyes as he thought of the article he’d read from a universe exactly like this, only a little older.  “No,” he said, opening his eyes and pouring them both a drink.  “No, we can’t so we may as well make the most of what time we have together.</p><p>They sat together for hours, listening to one another, each man bringing the other the comfort he desperately needed.  They drank and laughed and joked, as if they really were the other’s brother.  Most of all, they told stories.  Stan told Ford of his unscrupulous life, the high risks he took that sometimes worked out but most often didn’t.  Of the narrow misses, daring escapes, brawls and scams.  For hours, Stan spoke of the life he’d lived alone, finally glad he now had someone he could trust to share those tales with.</p><p>But as the sky outside darkened, Ford noticed a change slowly coming over Stanley, despite his enthusiasm in describing his life.  He seemed to grow physically tired, his eyelids fluttering sometimes even during his stories.  His breathing became slower and even the oxygen tank only helped a little.  His voice became quieter and quieter until Ford had to move his chair right next to his to make out the words.  Finally, he was struggling to even sit up properly and not even his enjoyment was enough fuel to keep him talking.</p><p>But his tired eyes scanned the room, still mostly alert.  So Ford clasped his hand in his and took on the burden, telling Stanley Pines of the greatest man he had ever known in any of the universes he had been to.  He told him about his bravery, his compassion, his charm and resilience.  The trouble he caused and the people he saved.  Most of all, he told him about his dedication to his family.</p><p>How he had become like a father to a young boy he’d taken in as an employee, until he was like a grandfather to that boy’s daughters.  How he had taken care of a young brother and sister every summer, became so important to them that they continued to visit even now that they had grown into the incredible man and woman they were today.</p><p>Even when the grip slackened in his hold and the body slumped and the half-closed eyes stopped seeing, Ford continued until he had finished one last story.</p><p>“And that, Stanley, was how you brought me back.  How you took me away from decades of traveling to bring me home, to my family, and give me the greatest life I could ever have wished for,” Ford gasped, clutching at his hand as the tears blinded him.  “Despite how stupid I’d been, how harshly I’d treated you.  Because that.  Was the kind of man you were.”</p><p>He stood up, pulling a cover over his brother’s body and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.  He gathered the clutter and plates and dirty clothes around the room, binning the waste and cleaning everything else.  He didn’t know why - perhaps so the person who’d find him wouldn’t simply see a man living his last days in poor conditions.  Finally, when the room was clean and tidy, he moved Mabel’s picture, placing it beside him.  He was sure Stan would’ve liked that.</p><p>The last thing he did in that universe - after he’d taken out the trash and contacted the authorities to let them know of his brother’s passing and where they could find the envelope with enough money to pay for the funeral and the name of his great-niece - was to make one last phone call.</p><p>The number had been the same and he knew the correct passwords to get it directly through, so it didn’t take long for a familiar voice to answer.</p><p>“Stanford Pines speaking.”</p><p>He closed his eyes and drank the last of the bottle, stoking the rage and shame building up inside him.</p><p>“Hello?  Hello?  Is this one of my teams?  Identify yourself so-”</p><p>“Your brother is dead.”</p><p>“My - what?  Who is this?”</p><p>“Listen to my voice, you know exactly who this is,” Ford hissed.  “Didn’t you hear me?  Your brother is dead.  <em> Our </em>brother is dead.”</p><p>“I...I see.  When, uh, when did-?”</p><p>“What do you care?” Ford snarled.  “When did you ever care enough about him?”</p><p>“Now just hold on a moment-!”</p><p>“No!  You listen to me!  You were nothing without Stanley!  He was the one who believed in us from the start!  He was the one who protected us, encouraged us, and you abandoned him!”</p><p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”</p><p>“I am you, you fool!” he screamed at himself.  “I made the same mistake that you did!  But at least I learned my lesson!  I thought I was terrible for taking so long to reconcile - but now I see how lucky I am!  I had years with my brother - you left yours to rot!  You sicken me!”</p><p>“I - my research was important!  I had to-”</p><p>“Stanley was important!  He was our brother!  He was twice the man you ever were!  You think those stupid rewards mean anything?  You wouldn’t have half of them if Stanley hadn’t believed in you!</p><p>“But you’ll never realise how pathetic you really are,” he continued, his voice lowering to a growl.  “I’d pity you if I thought you were capable of seeing how little you have.  But you won’t because you’re too caught up in your own glory to see how insignificant it is compared to what you’ve lost.”</p><p>“...Are you finished?”</p><p>Ford gave a snort.  “Yes.  I’m finished.  I have my own brother to bury.  And a family to cherish.  Just like Stan did his.”</p><p>He dropped the receiver and walked away, hitting the return switch in his dimensional locator so a gateway opened up in front of him.  He stepped through it onto the ramp of the portal of his own dimension.  He raised the bottle to his lips again, momentarily forgetting it was empty as he staggered forward, trying to remember where he’d kept the other and if he could-</p><p>Dipper stood at the bottom of the ramp, his hands deep in his pockets.</p><p>Ford blinked in surprise.  He looked at the clock on the wall, to see how many hours had passed in this universe.  He gave up when he realised he hadn’t checked when he’d left.  Dipper was still wearing the same clothes as at the funeral parlour, so it must be the same night.  He must have just come to check on him.</p><p>His stomach dropped as he realised what that meant.  His great-nephew had travelled here to make sure he was alright.  Instead, he’d found the portal being used for personal use, despite Ford creating strict rules against such things.  And now he was stumbling out of that portal dishevelled, an empty bottle in hand and stinking of its contents, another broken regulation that he’d written himself.  He looked away in shame as Dipper approached, wishing he could be as strong as the younger man was during this great hardship.</p><p>Dipper put a hand on his shoulder.  “Come on, Grunkle Ford,” he said with a sad smile, not a trace of judgment anywhere to be found.  “Let’s go home.  Family needs to be together now more than ever.”</p><p>Ford blinked back at him, dumbfounded.  Then the bottle slipped from his hands and he threw his arms around his great nephew, shaking and sobbing and grateful beyond words for everything he had.  For everything Stan had given him.</p><p>“I know,” Dipper whispered, struggling under the weight of the larger man but still finding solace in the heavy embrace.  “I know.  I miss him too.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In another universe, Stanford Pines stared at the phone on his desk, almost unable to feel the words he had just heard.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn photograph.  A faded picture of two boys on a beach, their arms around each other as they stood atop a run down boat, smiling broadly.</p><p>Stanford looked around his office, seeing the accolades he’d acquired, the respect he’d won, and the wealth he’d earned in his decades of committed pursuit to science.  He looked back down at the photo, focusing on one face in particular.</p><p>And he put his head in his hands as he wept at what little he had and how much he’d lost.</p>
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